


She Drowns

by Ghost_in_the_Hella



Series: Holidays are Strange [7]
Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game), Life Is Strange: Before The Storm
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Awkward Teenage Feelings, Blackhelloween, Costumes, F/F, Fluff, Halloween, Hellaween, Underage Drinking, amberprice, gender bending, halloween party, hella sweary, holiday fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:08:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27312406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghost_in_the_Hella/pseuds/Ghost_in_the_Hella
Summary: Rachel wants to see Chloe shine. Specifically, she wants to see her shine at the Blackhell-o-ween party. On her arm. In full costume. In front of everyone.It's a daunting prospect for both of them.---Amberprice Halloween 2010
Relationships: Rachel Amber & Chloe Price, Rachel Amber/Chloe Price, unrequited Rachel Amber/Steph Gingrich
Series: Holidays are Strange [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1244693
Comments: 6
Kudos: 31





	She Drowns

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Hellaween!
> 
> I've been picking away at this story for two years now and the second half still needs some work. But if I don't punt it out into the world now, when will I ever?

Rachel Amber isn’t used to people saying “no” to her. She especially isn’t used to Chloe Price saying “no” to her, so when it happens her mouth just sort of hangs open for a few seconds before she remembers to shut it again. “ _No_?” she repeats, checking to make sure she’s heard correctly. “But… But it’s Halloween! It’s drama nerd Christmas!”

“So go with your drama nerd friends,” Chloe replies uncertainly, sounding full of immediate regret. “I don’t do Halloween.” She folds her arms over her chest as if that’ll put an end to the conversation.

Rachel raises an eyebrow in her direction. “ _You_. Don’t do Halloween. It’s literally _the_ night for reckless, illegal shenanigans, watching horror movies, and eating too much candy, but somehow that’s not your thing?”

“I mean, you pretty much just described every night of my life, sooooo… What’s so special about it?” When Rachel narrows her eyes at her in response, Chloe heaves a dramatic sigh and flops down on her perpetually unmade bed. “Ugh, I just… Can’t we just do that stuff _here_? Why do we have to go to a party? I see those asshats enough in class; I don’t need to see them dressed up in stupid costumes.”

“But think of the blackmail opportunities!” Rachel teases. She hovers near the edge of the bed, contemplating joining her. Getting into Chloe’s space can yield… _unpredictable_ results. She’s not sure if the gamble would pay off.

Chloe snorts derisively. “Oh, I’m thinking of them, alright. I’m thinking I’m gonna end up being the one that gets blackmailed.” She wags a finger at Rachel. “I haven’t forgotten the last time you talked me into putting on a costume in front of those Blackwell creeps. I caught shit for _weeks_ , and I wasn’t even taking classes.”

“From the same people who give you shit no matter what you do. Fuck ‘em.” Rachel perches on the corner of the bed and Chloe immediately bolts upright, propping herself up on her elbows and looking both panic-stricken and like she’s trying desperately not to look panic-stricken. “And if you remember _that_ ,” Rachel continues, “then I assume you also remember how awesome that night turned out for you.”

Rachel’s not sure if Chloe’s actually a virgin, but she sure as hell blushes like one despite what she may claim.

It’s been a good five months since that night under the streetlamp, but the memory is still vivid. They haven’t really kissed like that since. Not _really_. She’s kissed Chloe a few times over the intervening months - it’s funny: Chloe acts so eager all the time, but still Rachel always has to make the first move or they’d never get anywhere - but apart from a couple of sloppy makeouts when they’d gotten stoned together it was all relatively chaste. Almost shy. Nothing like their first kiss, the night of the Tempest. The adrenaline rush of performing, the joy of sharing that moment onstage with Chloe after crushing on her from afar for months, the thrill of feeling like their whole lives were an adventure just about to happen… It was _magical_. 

Rachel leans in impulsively and presses a kiss to Chloe’s cheek right at the corner of her mouth, close enough to her lips that she’ll be tasting Rachel’s apricot lipgloss when next she speaks. Chloe looks stupefied for a moment, then shakes it off and gives her a coy smile. “Your, um. Your aim was a little off,” she says hopefully.

“Oh? Was it?” Rachel smirks and pulls away. “So are you taking me to the party or not, Price?”

Rachel can almost hear the gears grinding in Chloe’s head. “Okay, fine, princess,” Chloe sighs at last, failing to sound properly annoyed. “I’ll go.”

“A wise decision. And you’ll dress up?”

Chloe swallows hard and Rachel is pretty sure she can actually see her pride sticking in her throat a little on the way down. “Yeah. Sure. Fuck it. I’ll do it.”

“Great! I’ll call Steph. She offered to help with our costumes.” She bounces up off the bed, leaving Chloe looking dazed.

“Hey, wait!” Chloe protests when she finally finds her voice again. “Where’s my kiss?”

Rachel grabs her phone off Chloe’s desk and starts ostentatiously scrolling through her contacts. “Waiting for you at the party.”

* * *

“Look, Rach, I get why you want to dress up. I totally do. It’s your _thing_. But why do _I_ have to dress up?”

Steph grunts and claps her sketchbook shut for the third time in twenty minutes. “Is she _always_ this whiny?” she sighs, turning to Rachel. “I thought she already agreed to this.”

Rachel shrugs at her a little helplessly. She didn’t expect this to be effortless - Chloe’s nothing if not stubborn - but she’d expected less resistance than this.

“I’m not _whiny_ ,” Chloe huffs, struggling to keep her voice from rising to a whine. Arms crossed over her chest, she lies on her bed and glowers up at the ceiling. “I just don’t want to wear a fucking costume is all. I’m not _twelve_.”

Rachel cups a hand around one ear. “Do my ears deceive me? Did someone just imply that dressing up in a costume is somehow immature and _beneath_ them?”

“That’s what I heard,” Steph agrees, a flicker of amusement in her eyes. 

Chloe closes her eyes and sighs. “Guys…”

“And this right after saying how they understood why _I_ would want to wear a costume?”

“Yup, heard that, too.”

“C’mon, you know I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Oh, and what way did you mean it, Ms. Price?”

Chloe splutters wordlessly for a solid minute while Steph and Rachel exchange bemused glances. “Just… I… Fuckin’... Argh, dammit, Rachel. I just… don’t want those stuck-up shitbags making fun of me, okay?” She tugs at the front of her tattered t-shirt. “They already give me enough shit for the way I dress. I don’t wanna give them any more ammo. Showing up at their rich-kid party in some dumb costume, looking like a dork...”

“Wow, thanks for automatically assuming my costume designs are going to suck. I’m really glad I came all the way out here to help you guys out.” Steph starts to get up from the beanbag chair. “Rachel, it was a cool idea, but obviously--”

Chloe cringes. “Shit, Steph, I didn’t--”

“Steph, _wait_. Chloe, _shush_.” Rachel kneels next to the bed to catch Chloe’s eyes. “Nobody is going to make fun of you. Okay? Because you’re going with _me_ , and if anyone makes fun of you, I will personally kick their ass.” At Chloe’s hesitant nod, a sly smile dawns on Rachel’s lips. “And you won’t look like a dork. Steph will make you look hella badass.”

Steph settles back into the beanbag with a smirk. “I mean, I’ll try. I’m good, but I’m not a miracle worker.”

Rachel waves a hand at her dismissively without breaking eye contact with Chloe. “We’ll both be total badasses. _Together_.”

Chloe still looks doubtful, but Rachel can see she’s getting through to her.

“Because,” she presses on, going for what she hopes is the kill, “I was sort of thinking we could maybe… do costumes that go together?” An expression crosses over Chloe’s face that Rachel can’t read. She’s not sure if she’s happy or conflicted or confused or what. “You know… Bonnie and Clyde? Romeo and Juliet? That… type of thing?”

“Thelma and Louise,” Steph suggests helpfully.

Chloe blinks rapidly. “Wait, like…” She gives a little gulp and it’s so adorable that Rachel almost forgives her for being such a pain in the ass about the whole thing. “Like a ‘couple’s costume,’ you mean?”

The word “couple” combined with the tender, hopeful look in Chloe’s eyes makes Rachel feel a bit like someone’s sucked all of the air out of her lungs. Labels in general suffocate her. Somehow they always feel like a trap, something designed to keep her pinned down like a butterfly in a collection. But if that word is what it takes to get Chloe on board, then she can work with it. Once she can get her lungs to obey her again.

Luckily, Steph speaks up before Rachel has to. “No shit, Sherlock. Get with the program.” Steph swings her sketchbook open again, spreading it over her thighs, and clicks her pen expectantly.

Rachel stands, giving herself a reason not to look into Chloe’s eyes anymore, and brushes the dust bunnies off her knees. “Basically, yeah.”

Chloe drags herself up to a sitting position and starts picking at a loose thread on her jeans. “So… What did you have in mind?”

The tension in Rachel’s chest eases. She sits down next to Chloe, close enough that she can feel her warmth even though they aren’t quite touching. “I was thinking something Shakespearean,” she proposes. “We already know that Steph designs for Shakespeare like a boss and that you can pull off the look. Plus, there’re tons of interesting… uh, pairings in Shakespeare that we can work with.”

“They’re all pretty twisted, though,” Steph puts in. “Fair warning.”

“Twisted’s fine with me,” Chloe says cautiously, “but I dunno… You say ‘Shakespeare’ and all I can hear is ‘tights’.”

“Chloe, you wore tights half the summer!” Rachel laughs.

“Yeah, under shorts,” Chloe grumbles. “To keep my legs from getting ripped to shit at the skatepark. Not, like, in front of the whole damn school in fucking October when I’m freezing to death.”

“You could wear a dress. You’d be nice and warm.” The face that Chloe pulls in response to that has Rachel and Steph both howling with laughter. “Okay, okay, but when your legs are freezing, remember you have only yourself to blame.”

“Oh, I’ll remember who to blame, alright,” Chloe mutters, but her tone is teasing and she’s smiling.

“Hmmm, we could do Sebastian and Viola from Twelfth Night,” Rachel suggests. “Then at least you wouldn’t be alone in your cold-legged misery.”

Chloe’s nose wrinkles. “We could do who now?”

Steph bursts into laughter, which only gets louder when Chloe glares at her. “Sorry, just… Trying to picture you two as twins.” She shakes her head mirthfully. “I don’t know, Rachel; you’re a good actress, but I’m not sure even you could pull that one off.”

“I could wear stilts!” Rachel jokes. “Chloe could slouch!”

“ _Still_ no idea who we’re talking about, guys…”

“I was thinking more about the puppy dog looks she’ll be giving you all night. Nobody’ll buy her as your brother.”

Chloe’s face deepens to a shade of red bordering on purple. “Dude. C’mon. What the fuck.”

Rachel smiles and bumps her shoulder against Chloe’s. “You remember that movie, _She’s the Man_?”

“Uhhh, what?”

“The one where Amanda Bynes looks nothing like a guy, but everyone thinks she’s her twin brother anyway? Even though they look nothing alike?”

“Yeeeeeaaaaah…?”

“That’s Twelfth Night. Basically. But with soccer and Channing Tatum.”

“Oh.”

“Personally, I vote Romeo and Juliet,” Steph declares, sketching idly in her book. “You can even gender swap it if neither of you wants to wear a dress. Romeo and Julius.”

“Yeah? Why Romeo and Juliet?” Given the size of the torch Steph used to carry for her, Rachel’s slightly doubtful as to her motivations. 

Steph shrugs. “Couple of young, naive, hormone-addled teens sneaking around to defy their parents sounds about right to me.” And there it is. Steph’s usually pretty chill, but every now and then...

Chloe’s officially purple now. Her eyes are popping out of her skull and she looks ready to leap across the room to forcibly silence their friend. “ _Dude_. Steph, shut the fuck _up_.”

The truth is, it sounds about right to Rachel, too. “Too cliche,” she says dismissively, even though she’d been the first one to suggest it. 

Steph raises her eyebrows but holds her tongue. Her pen keeps scratching away at the paper. “Yeah, I guess that describes any high school couple, doesn’t it. Hmm, what about Hamlet and Ophelia?”

“That’s… not the worst idea you’ve had today,” Rachel concedes. 

“Gee, thanks.”

“Hamlet’s the dude with the skull, right?”

And the dead father. And the asshole step-father. And the ghostly visions of his dead father. It’s a good thing Chloe sleeps through English class, or Hamlet might hit too close to home.

“I mean, only in that one scene, but I guess it makes sense for the costume so people know who you are.” Steph’s pen is working away at the page feverishly now. The tip of her tongue sticks out a little as she draws. “And if you want, Rachel, you could be Ophelia _after_ she drowns. Otherwise you’re just sort of any Shakespearean character in a pretty dress, you know?”

“She _drowns_?” Chloe sounds nervous. Rachel puts a hand over hers to soothe her, but it only makes her jump.

“Yeah, and you murder a bunch of people and get poisoned. Told you they were all twisted.” Steph whips her pen off the paper with a dramatic flourish. “Alright, check it out. What d’you think?”

* * *

Steph really outdid herself on the costumes. And combined with Rachel’s prowess with dramatic makeup? Rachel _is_ Ophelia. 

Rachel is Ophelia in a ludicrously heavy and frankly sort of gross getup, but still. She looks amazing, and that’s what really matters tonight. She checks herself out in Chloe’s full length mirror, doing a slow twirl to make sure she covered enough of the dress with the wet-look makeup to be convincing. She’s saturated with the stuff. The dress droops and clings convincingly, heavy with makeup rather than water. Her hair is perfectly styled to look wet and bedraggled while still being attractive. Her skin glistens and shimmers. Her face is made up to look deathly pale and tinged with pale blue, her cheekbones and eyelids highlighted with blue glitter. 

She’s a perfect Ophelia. Tragically beautiful. Even the heartstrings of her rivals will be plucked, she’s certain. 

Chloe, on the other hand...

“Chloe, are you wearing _boxers_ under your tights?”

“Hey, I can only be emasculated so much. Would you rather I wear them on top?”

Rachel sinks her face into her open palm with a groan. “I suppose it would be too much to ask for you to actually get into the spirit of this?”

“Ha! ‘Spirit.’ Halloween. I see what you did there.”

Chloe would actually look great if only she would take it more seriously. Black looks good on just about anyone but Chloe looks particularly stunning in it, and the way the fabric hangs on her long, lean figure is dashing and romantic. Between the dramatic black outfit and the blue streak in her hair, Chloe looks emo in the best possible way. Apart from those fucking boxer shorts. Her legs are kind of fantastic, and the boxers bunched up under her tights completely ruin the look. “If I had to cover literally my entire _being_ with this goop, the least you can do is wear something more discreet under your tights.”

Chloe grumbles a bit. Even under her pale makeup, a small blush becomes evident. “I just… I feel…”

“Here, come on, I’ve got an idea. You don’t want to feel emasculated?” Rachel tosses a wadded up pair of (hopefully clean) socks to Chloe, which she awkwardly catches and examines, a puzzled look on her face. 

“You… want me to wear socks over my tights? That doesn’t--”

“Not _over_ your tights, Chloe.” She gestures toward Chloe’s crotch with a meaningful look, hoping that Chloe will catch the suggestion.

Chloe’s eyes widen. Her ears turn red. “ _Oh_.” She shuffles nervously, biting her lower lip. “Um… ‘Kay. Gimme a minute, I’ll, uh, I’ll go and… Yeah.” Rachel chuckles to herself as Chloe darts back out into the hall and dashes for the bathroom. She returns a moment later, grabs a pair of underwear out of a drawer, then leaves again without a word. 

Rachel studies her reflection in the mirror while she waits for Chloe to return. She hopes she didn’t push too hard. She doesn’t want to scare Chloe away. For someone who pretends to give so few fucks, Chloe’s a surprisingly sensitive person. Rachel just… really _wants_ this.

She’s not even sure why she wants this so much. Normally she’s content to be the center of attention all by herself, feeling no need to share the spotlight. And it’s not like Chloe’s really “hers” anyway. There’s just something strangely appealing about the idea of bringing Chloe into this scene, showing her off in front of all the stupid haters who’ve made her life hell. 

She wants to see Chloe _shine_ , dammit.

Several minutes later, a surprisingly bashful Chloe reenters the room, closing the door behind her. “So, uh, um…”

Rachel gives her an appraising look and breaks into a grin. “That is a vast improvement.” If Chloe can summon up a bit of her usual cockiness, she’ll be the talk of the party. Rachel swirls a finger in the air. “Give me a slow twirl. I want to check you out.” Chloe’s ears go red again, but she obliges, throwing out her arms with overplayed sarcasm and slowly turning to give Rachel a 360 degree view of her costume. Without the boxers bunching up under her tights, Chloe’s legs look fucking sensational, and the crotch bulge the socks give her may not be totally believable but it’s actually kinda hot on her. Drag suits her. “Damn, Chlo. You make Hamlet look _good_.”

Chloe smiles sheepishly, rubbing the back of her neck. “You mean it?”

Rachel nods. “You look _hella_ hot. Kind of feels like a shame to take you to the party now; I sort of want to keep you all to myself.”

Chloe lets out an awkward chuckle. “Hey, if you wanna just hang out here, I won’t complain…”

“No, I wouldn’t be so selfish as to keep you all to myself. Not after all of Steph’s hard work. Speaking of which…” She gives a slow twirl of her own, enjoying the feeling of Chloe’s eyes closely following her figure. “What do you think of my Ophelia?”

“I think…” Chloe swallows hard. “I think Hamlet would have to be some kind of idiot to let your Ophelia drown.”

“Good thing you’re not an idiot, then.” Rachel smirks. 

“You may be giving me too much credit,” Chloe jokes in her not-actually-joking way. 

Rachel can’t really fathom why Chloe always seems to be convinced that she’s stupid. If there’s one thing that Rachel’s learned about her in the months that they’ve known each other, it’s that Chloe’s one of the smartest people she’s ever met. If she showed up to class more and actually did her homework ever, she’d easily surpass Rachel as the top student in their grade. She’s already learned not to mention that fact to her, though: it’s a guaranteed one-way-ticket to a Chloe Price shit fit. “Well, you’ll just have to keep your eye on me, then,” she says instead. “Make sure I don’t wander out onto any strange willow branches.”

Chloe furrows her brow in confusion. “Uh… Yeah. You’d probably have a hard time climbing trees in that dress, anyway. But I’ll keep my eyes peeled. So, we ready to go?”

“Hmm, almost…” Rachel taps a finger against her own lips thoughtfully. “You’re missing something.”

“Skull’s in the truck. It looks _awesome_ ; Steph really went all in on it.”

“Well, yes, there’s that, but I was thinking of something else.” Rachel retrieves her prop sword (“procured” from the Drama Club’s prop room by Steph at her request) from her costume bag and lays it across her hands, bowing her head to Chloe because she can’t kneel in this dress. “Take this sword, my Danish prince, to slay thy haters.”

“Woah, seriously? That thing’s hella cool.” Chloe eagerly takes the prop sword from Rachel’s hands and starts swinging it around. Rachel probably shouldn’t feel so pleased at hearing her slang from Chloe’s lips, but she is. Chloe catches Rachel smiling at her and gives a sheepish grin in return, tucking the sword through her sash. “So, uh, how do I look now?”

“Much better. The sword really completes the look.” She digs a playful elbow into Chloe’s side. “Plus now if anyone wants to give you shit about your bulging codpiece, they’ll see your sword and know you’re not to be fucked with.”

“My bulging--? _Oh_.” Chloe rubs the back of her neck nervously. Rachel seizes her by the wrist and gives her a tug toward the door.

“Between me and your sword, nobody can touch you. Come on. We’re going to be late.”

“I thought we were supposed to be late?” Chloe obediently trails after Rachel down the stairs. 

“ _Fashionably_ late. But if we don’t leave now we’ll be unfashionably late, and _that_ I will not abide.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated.


End file.
